Through the Trapdoor
by oreomuffincakes
Summary: Isaac tried desperately to escape his mother, and discovers an entire world inside their basement.
1. Chapter 1

Mom used to be happier before dad left. That was before she started watching the television so much. Every morning I would wake up and I could hear it blasting in the other room while mom banged around in the kitchen trying to find something to throw together for breakfast. I remember sitting next to the couch every afternoon and every weekend playing with my toys and having my ears filled with words of encouragement and praise to the lord Jesus Christ.

I was so naive back then.

Mom started talking to herself. I could hear her soft mumbling over the television, usually at night after we had eaten dinner, and the room was only lit by the lamp beside the couch. I didn't pay much attention to it. I was too young to understand that what she said under her breath could have any effect on me. The days wore on and I continued to play with my toys beside the couch. I heard it creek under mom's weight when she got up, and I heard it groan when she sat back down. Every time she did so, I would make my toy soldiers drop down to the ground for cover.

I think it was sometime in November, when the nights were starting to get especially cold and the trees were bare. I remember the couch creaking and my soldiers falling prone. Then my mother was above me. Without a word she scooped up my soldiers and blocks, and smiled at me. "Yes Lord, I will be obedient," I heard her say. I looked up at her with confusion as she walked towards her bedroom. She was in there for a few moments before emerging and taking her usual spot on the couch. As it gave under her weight, I softly padded over to her, my bare feet barely making a sound on the cold floor. "Mommy, where did you take my toys?" My mother looked me in the eye, her expression emotionless and cold. "I need to cleanse you of your sins, my son." I stood there, more confused and staring into her face, waiting for my mother to explain herself. But she turned her gaze back towards the television. _Hell is not a place we talk about often._ I hear the man on the television. _But it's time we stop sugar coating our message._

A week has gone by, and I've taken to sitting quietly by the couch or in my room. My mother has confiscated all my toys, my crayons, and my books, leaving only my bed, furniture, and clothes to keep me company. A long time ago, my father taught me the importance of imagination as I helped him plant the roses that now thrive in our front yard. "You have to let yourself create your own world sometimes, Isaac," he said, wiping dirt off his nose but leaving more in the process. "This world, the earth, isn't a place you want to be all the time. It really weighs down on ya." I smiled as my little brain tried to understand what he meant. He picked up the shovel laying next to him and thrust it into the dirt. "Isaac, just remember that what you see around you doesn't have to be all there is."

I don't go to school anymore. My mom told me it was all "part of the process". The days went by so slowly as I sat by her side on the floor, or as I sat by myself in my room. Sometimes, I would close my eyes and try to imagine things like my dad taught me, another reality, another person to keep me company, anything to pass the time by. I wasn't happy anymore. I understood when my dad left. That didn't bother me as much as this did.

One morning, my mom came into my room and demanded I undress. By this point in time, I knew my mom would not answer any of my questions. So without a word, I slipped off my shirt, pants, and underwear and placed them in her hands. She walked over to my closet and gathered the remainder of my clothes, piling them on top of the clothes I had just removed from my body. I was already beginning to feel the chill of the cold outside eat at my bare skin by the time she left my room with all my clothes. I didn't even have time to feel ashamed at my nakedness.

I tried finding warmth underneath my blanket, but only a couple days later, some men came and removed all the furniture out of my room while I waited in my usual spot by the couch. That was when I cried for the first time since this ordeal began.

Mom and I sat side by side for another couple of days after this. This was about the time I realized that the only thing my mother ever watched were Christian broadcasts from churches all over the nation. I don't know how I never noticed this before. My toys and my growing imagination must have prevented me from really paying attention. My mom still mumbled, but now her mumbles were louder, and often she had full blown conversations with the man or woman on television.

_He wants us to clear our lives of anything that may be hindering our walk. _

"I will do whatever it takes, my Lord," my mother said in reply.

_You must be prepared to follow Him, no matter what he asks of you._

"I will do my best to serve you, my Lord."

_He doesn't think your faith is as strong as it should be, oh child. _

"What must I do, Father?"

The television went black. I looked to my mom, who put down the remote and lifted herself from the couch. She headed for the kitchen. I heard a drawer open and slam shut. Then my mother emerged from the darkness, holding the big butcher knife we only used for steaks and shredding cabbage. My heart jumped in fear.

"I must sacrifice Isaac. Whatever you want from me, MY LORD!" I felt a piercing scream leave my mouth as I got up from the floor and ran to my empty bedroom. I slammed the door shut and turned the lock. I heard my mother's heavy footsteps following me down the hall. I didn't have much time. I frantically opened my window, my breathing heavy. My mother had reached my door and was pounding. "ISAAC, I MUST OBEY THE LORD." I forced my window open only to be greeted with metal bars that must have been put there by my mother. I couldn't escape this way. I fell to the floor, feeling hopeless and wondering how bad a knife would hurt. I started crying hysterically, doubling over as my tears made little puddles on the floor. My door was starting to come loose from the hinges.

Through my blurred vision, I saw one of the tear puddles become smaller as it seeped through an unusually large crack in the floor. I reached out to touch it. The crack was about three feet long. I dug my fingernails into it and lifted.

It was a trapdoor, leading to a dark place underneath the house.

I wiped my tears with the back of my hand. I could either venture down into the unknown, or I could wait for my mother to carve me like a Thanksgiving turkey. I took a deep breath and threw myself through the trapdoor, just as my door flew open and my mother's red, puffy face appeared. The last thing I heard was my father's voice. "Just remember that what you see around you doesn't have to be all there is."


	2. Chapter 2

A sharp pain ripped through my ankles as I made contact with the basement floor. I wasn't even aware we had a basement underneath our house. My eyes adjusted to the dim light quickly, and I noticed that the reason for this was because there were two weak flames in each corner of the room. I looked up towards the trapdoor, expecting my mother to follow. But I could see nothing but the earthen ceiling above. She must have locked me down here. I gave a small shiver and crawled towards the fire. The room was perfectly square, with wooden beams making up the frame of the basement. I could see a door leading to an adjacent room about ten feet away. Maybe there was a way out of here.

I gathered myself and stood to my feet, my throbbing ankles unsteady but holding me up all the same. I walked to the doorway and peered inside. It was too dark to see anything. I glanced over my shoulder, trying to decide if this was truly my only option. The dim, dirty, and completely enclosed room behind me was almost begging me forward. I let out a sigh and walked through the door.

As soon as my body had cleared the doorframe, a hidden door slid shut from the top like a guillotine, locking me inside. I screamed as two flames exactly like the ones in the previous room combusted in the middle of this room, and a dark figure wobbled to the wall farthest away from me. I was not alone down here, and worse, I was trapped in a room with whatever that thing was. I stood with my body pressed up against the wall for a long time, trying to determine the nature of the creature. Its feet made squishing sounds when it moved, and I noticed patches of what appeared to be blood in various places on the floor. I lowered my head and started crying again, too afraid to scream or try to escape the room.

To my surprise, the creature started to cry too. His whimpers started out soft, but soon it was sobbing loudly. Intrigued, I wiped my face with the back of my hand and slowly started to shuffle over to it. It was a little shorter than me, with a bloated head and short little legs. It's eyes were glossy wet with tears, and the closer I got to it, the more panicked it looked. Right when I was about to reach out to touch its lumpy fleshy body, an explosion met my ears and I was knocked backwards. Blood and lumpy flesh splattered all over the room, and in the creature's place were three massive, flying bugs. I started crying again from the pain of the explosion. The creature was so scared of me it decided blowing itself up was a better alternative. The flying bugs were coming toward me, and I could see that they resembled flies, but about five times bigger. Had they been living inside the suicidal creature? I stood up just as one of them made contact with my skin, causing my entire body pain. I swatted at it like a mosquito with the hand I had wiped my tears away. As the liquid met the bug, I heard a sizzle and it fell dead. Quickly I swatted at the other two flies, using my tears as projectiles. The instant the bugs made contact with my tears, I heard the same sizzle and they too fell to the ground dead.

I stood in the room, tears streaming down my face, my entire body in pain, and my mind in shock. What was happening to me? All this time, a strange animal of some sort was living underneath our house and I didn't even know it. Did my mother know? Was this part of her plan all along?

The door that had previously shut on it's own before slid back up into the ceiling, along with two other doorways I hadn't noticed before. It was like I had completed the first mission on my Gamekid, and now it was time to progress. The question was: did I dare progress further into this dungeon? I had a gut feeling that exploding monsters and flies that burned my skin weren't the only things hiding down here.

One of the two new doorways had a golden metal frame around it, and naturally I was drawn to that one first. I entered swiftly in case the doors shut on me again. Much to my relief, they remained open as I walked in. In the middle of the room, an unusual looking item rested on a rock, with a firepit on either side of it. It was almost like an offering on a rock alter. I walked over to it and picked it up. As soon as I touched it, I felt dizzy, and I had an unusual twisting feeling in my face.

When I regained my balance, the item was gone, and I saw an inscription in the rock alter. I used my hand to brush away a layer of dirt, and bent over to read what it said. It appeared to be in another language, but as I looked harder, I was able to understand that it said "_Pyromaniac, please accept these five explosives to help you on your journey. It hurts so good. P.S., try using your right hand. -G"_ I examined my right hand, but I saw nothing different about it. Curious, I made a throwing motion, and just as if it had always been there, a bomb flew from my hand and exploded against the far wall. I felt my heart beat faster. I was armed, just like my toy soldiers.

With juvenile excitement, I exited the room and headed for the unknown second doorway, overenthusiastic to try out my new powers. The door shut behind me again, just as it had the first time, and I jumped and whirled around. Adrenaline made my heart beat faster, and I faced forward again and scanned the room. Another flying creature was coming towards me, but this one was larger than any bug I had ever seen. As it came into view, I couldn't help but scream again. It was a head, a bodiless head, with bloody gaping holes for eyes and a mouth with only two teeth in it. I overreacted and swung my right hand feverishly. I missed each time, only accomplishing a series of explosions behind the monster.

I must have made it angry. It grunted and spat blood at me from its mouth. The blood burned my skin like fire the instant it made contact with me. I scrambled to get away as I saw three more of the wretched monsters appear from the darkness. I made it to the wall farthest away, panicking and unsure what to do next. I was pretty sure I had used up all my explosive powers. The monsters were getting closer, and they started to spit their boiling blood onto my skin. It was insanely painful. I guess my mother wouldn't have to worry about killing me after all.

Then I remembered the flies. They had had a fatal reaction to my tears, perhaps these creatures would as well. I wiped my face with my hand and flung my tears in their direction. They groaned and sizzled, backing away.

It was working.

I used both my hands to wipe the ammunition off my face and flung as much of it as I could in their direction. They groaned and moaned, and one of them fell to the ground, dead. They kept spitting at me, their blood giving me the painful motivation to keep crying. Soon, all four of them were dead at my feet. Blood was everywhere, and I honestly wasn't sure if it was theirs or mine. The doors to this room slid up, signaling the end of my battle here. A silver key fell from the roof and landed in the middle of the room, and I immediately went to retrieve it. The new doorway was larger than most, and a goathead graced the top of it.

_Satan._

I must be nearing the exit.


End file.
